


Sunflowers and Frappuccinos

by Tipsyrainbow



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Eventual Romance, Hero Worship, M/M, Stalkee Shop AU If You Will, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25769314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsyrainbow/pseuds/Tipsyrainbow
Summary: Alfred has always gone to the same coffee shop, and maybe it's because Francis has always had a thing for his step-brother, but either way he wasn't stopping now.Even if the new Barista is kind of creepy... okay, really creepy. Maybe he should call the cops.Alternatively, Ivan meets Alfred at his new job, Francis' coffee shop, and he finds that this is one little bird he can't let fly away.-COFFEE SHOP AU-
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Sunflowers and Frappuccinos

“And here it is! Le Café D’amour, c’est magnifique, non?” Francis guided the doors open with an elegant swoop of his arm, tinkling the chime above the frame and revealing the small yet lush interior of the café. “My dreams have become a reality, and now you get to share in my dreams, mon amie.” With prideful eyes, a handsome smile settled upon his face as he watched the other marvel at the fruit of his labors

    

“Da, is very beautiful.” Ivan nodded with a small smile, familiarizing himself with the French decor and the sweet aromas of the pastries and expensive coffee. He trailed behind the the blond wordlessly as they entered the café. Few of the tables were occupied and many of the patrons were hushed in comfortable silence, soft operetta music flowing from the speakers at the counter. A bouncy young man hummed to the Italian aria from behind said counter, wiping it down with a happy expression in place. At the chime of the door, he paused and looked up, his smile breaking into a full and toothy grin. 

    

“Oh, Francis! I was wondering when you were going to show up! Is this your friend?” The Italian bumbled with shining eyes, dropping the dish towel to wave his hands in excitement. Ivan studied the boy with interest, his mannerisms foreign to him, much like Francis’ own. Francis chuckled, leading Ivan behind the counter. 

    

“Oui, this is Ivan.” Francis spoke as he leaned forward to kiss the Italian on both his cheeks, which was a gesture happily returned. He faced Ivan who had been watching the men with interest. “Ivan, this is Feliciano. He will be with you for many of your shifts.” Francis stepped back as he introduced the pair. 

    

“Ciao! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Francis told me so much about you!” Feliciano nearly shook with energy as he jumped up to kiss Ivan’s cheek once. 

    

“Zdravstvuyte.” Ivan smiled behind his scarf, the gesture reaching his eyes. He clasped the other’s hand firmly. Feliciano squeaked at the roughness, happy energy replaced with unease at the fierceness of the other’s violet gaze.

    

“He is a bit odd sometimes, but I am sure you will be good friends in no time, oui?” Francis scratched at his stubble with an amused smile. Feliciano nodded slowly, giving a weak smile.

    

The sound of the door chime caught their attention in an instant, tensions breaking as the trio watched a pair of bickering blond men enter the café. 

    

“-and furthermore, you cannot simply fill someone’s car with live lobster and expect them not to know about it!” The shorter of the two spoke in an agitated voice as he sauntered into the café. The other, whose posture spoke nothing less of carefree, shrugged with a languid smile. 

    

“Whatever dude, you’re just cramping my style. Why don’t you take that stick out of your ass and let loose once in a while?” His grin deepened while the other only scowled. Unceremoniously, the taller of the two fell onto a seat at the table closest to the counter, throwing his legs up and leaning back like a cat stretching. 

    

“Alfred you git, would you mind?” The other man grimaced at the action, features drawn into a seemingly perpetual sour look. His thick brows twitched as he watched the other with distaste.

    

“Would I mind what, dude?” Alfred asked, chewing on his lower lip to stifle the grin that threatened to surface. Francis, who had been watching the men from the counter, cleared his throat heavily to catch their attention. 

    

"Alfred, mon amie, unfortunately I must agree with the black sheep. I will personally spit in your espresso if you do not remove your feet from my furniture.” Francis raised a brow, smiling despite his own words. Alfred complied, sticking his tongue out in protest.

    

“You and Artie are no fun.” He closed his eyes, grinning. 

    

“Oh, bollocks. What do you want, frog?” Arthur snapped his attention towards the Frenchman for the first time, brows furrowed. 

    

“I see you are charming as ever, mon chérie. It is my restaurant, I know you come back just to see more of me, hon hon hon~” Francis leaned against the counter, batting his eyelashes at the other man. 

    

“Oh, ‘mon chérie’ my ass, you bloody pervert! I only come here for Alfred, and because the tea is imported European!” Arthur huffed, folding his arms across his chest. 

    

Ivan watched the pair argue as Feliciano returned to taking and filling the occasional order of the customers. They bickered back and forth as if it were a game, but Ivan was well accustomed to Francis’ antics. He became bored with them, and found his attention trailing back to the carefree blond who was leaning back in his chair with his arms folded behind his head. Alfred, his name was. He carried such an air of comfort and ease, Ivan found himself studying the boy with piqued interest. Alfred basked in the winter sunlight that poured in through the windows, entirely comfortable in his own atmosphere. His personality was so exuberant, so eccentric, and yet so unlike Francis’ or Feliciano’s or anyone he’d met in this country thus far. He furrowed his brows slightly as he watched the American, a small smile playing at his lips. 

    

A light hand on his back drew him from his thoughts. Ivan turned to Francis, who smiled a little too knowingly. 

    

“Ivan, you may have guessed already, but these two lovely gentlemen are Alfred and Arthur.” Francis grinned. Arthur simply nodded at the sound of his name. Alfred perked up at the new direction of the conversation, blue eyes snapping open to acknowledge the Russian. 

    

“What’s up, dude? The name’s Alfred, and I’m the hero!” Alfred hopped up from the table, and stuck his hand out in Ivan’s direction. Ivan started, taken aback by the suddenness of the action. He shook the man’s hand much more gently than he had Feliciano’s, uncharacteristically. Clearing his throat at his own sudden bashfulness, he regained his composure. 

    

“Privet, little American.” Ivan grinned back at Alfred, who faltered slightly at the nickname. 

    

“Yeah, yeah. Any friend of Franky’s is a friend of mine!” Alfred brushed off his unease, and turned his attention back to the Frenchman, who scowled.

    

“Do not call me Franky, you odd little boy. Once more and you will not be a friend of mine any longer.” Francis paused. “And that means no more free frappuccinos.” 

    

“What!? Dude, c’mon, those are like six bucks!” Alfred waved a hand around in an exaggerated manner. “Without me and Artie, you’d get crap for customers. Wait, hey, and don’t call me little!” He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Francis chuckled, retrieving a cup from the bin for Alfred. With a quirked brow and a nod, they silently confirmed the regular. 

    

“Alfred, without you and ‘Artie’ I might actually be making money.” He shook his head with a grin nonetheless, turning to prepare the brew. Alfred shrugged happily, leaning against the counter. 

    

“Get me a some hot tea while you’re up there!” Arthur grumbled from his table a few feet away, scowling still. 

    

“You heard Artie. I need some green tea, stat bro. We all know what happens when his highness doesn't get his six gallons a day. ” Alfred spoke in a hushed voice, snickering.

    

“Green? He is not going to like that.” Francis rolled his eyes, plucking a styrofoam cup out for the hot drinks. 

    

“Duh. That's the point.” Alfred chuckled, grin wide and toothy. Ivan appeared close behind Francis, studying the pair with a curious glint in his violet eyes. 

    

“Why would you want to be upsetting your friend?” He piped from behind his scarf. 

    

“Dude, we’re totally not friends! Besides the look on his face will be priceless!” Alfred leveled his gaze with Ivan’s, suppressing a laugh. 

    

“Oui, I admit I would like to see the British scum freak out over tea.” Francis nodded, eyeing the Englishman as he set to work on the drinks. “Ivan, this is how you make the frappuccino, oui? Alfred always has the most convoluted order and usually expects free drinks when I am feeling particularly généreuse.” Francis brewed the coffee slowly and deliberately, showing all the steps to make the drink. Ivan simply nodded, shadowing the man as he set to brewing, chilling, and blending. Alfred grinned as he watched Ivan replicate the process, knowing that one would be on the house. 

    

“Here it is, c’est magnifique. Une mocha light java frappuccino with soy and deux shots of caramel.” Francis raised his drink while Ivan reluctantly presented his own concoction. They were nearly identical, though Francis’ displayed years of craft and perfection, ease and practise. 

    

“Woah, thanks dude!” Alfred snatched the cold drink from the Frenchman, taking a hearty gulp with fluttering lashes. With a contented sigh, he fished around his coat pocket for his wallet.

    

“I’ll only make you pay for one, since it is Ivan’s first time. Green tea for the prude you said?” Francis winked, motioning Ivan to follow him to the array of loose teas and pots.

    

“Aw, sick dude. You’re the best, Franky!” Alfred stretched over the counter and grabbed the other frappuccino from Ivan’s hand, holding the drinks close like a treasure hoard. Ivan tilted his head at the peculiarity of the American’s actions. 

    

“Why does he order such the complicated drink?” Ivan spoke up, gaze never leaving the happy young man. Francis shrugged, tying his hair into a low pony. 

    

“It is the most American thing I offer, oui?” 

    

Ivan nodded, reluctantly trailing his gaze from the American to the teas at hand. It was a simple process, one that need not be replicated. Ivan counted Alfred’s change as Francis finished the steeping, and slid the cup in his direction. Alfred finished off his first drink with an exaggerated slurp and sigh, and glanced at the cup of tea.

    

“Green?” He asked, picking it up and sloshing the contents next to his ear. Francis nodded, wiping his hands on his apron. 

    

“Oui, now deliver it before I have more customers to tend to. I would like to see this, hon hon hon~” 

    

Alfred gave a wide grin and a thumbs up, nearly skipping back to the table where Arthur was reading a newspaper with crossed legs. 

    

“Here you go, Artie!” Alfred spoke cheerily, a glimmer in his eye. He set the cup down, and took a cautious step backwards. Ivan furrowed his brows at the scene. All eyes were on Arthur, unbeknownst to him, as he raised the cup to his lips and drank. The moment that he tasted the tea, his eyes widened as he coughed it up. 

    

“Alfred!? What the hell is this, green tea!? Who do you think I am, you bloody bellend! I’ll have you know that I can very well get my tea from another coffeehouse, I don’t need to bring you to this unkempt establishment of that foppish- Alfred Foster Jones don’t you dare laugh while I am bloody ranting at you, ungrateful twat!” Arthur fumed profanities, causing many of the café’s occupants to regard the scene the Brit was making. Alfred nearly doubled over, his contagious laughter ringing out louder than Arthur’s shrill screaming. 

    

The Frenchman shook his head with a smile, while Feliciano giggled from behind at the prank. Ivan studied the pair, focusing on Alfred rather than the annoying Englishman. He watched the way the American’s shoulders shook with his hearty laugh, how the grin that split across his features grew with each huffing breath from the Brit. He disliked the words spewing from the man, finding something remiss of anger welling deep within his belly. 

    

He took a sharp intake of breath as Arthur’s cup flew towards Alfred, soaking him and the floor in the scalding tea. 

    

“Agh - shit!” Alfred yelped in pain, jumping back and wiping his hands wildly over his front in a futile attempt to clean himself off. “Not cool, dude!”

    

“Arthur! Alfred! Non, ce n'est pas bon du tout. One moment!” Francis called out to the pair, brows drawing in concern. He quickly excused himself to the back room, returning with towels and a mop. He gestured to the jittery American with one hand, and thrust the supplies in Ivan’s direction with the other.

    

“Can you handle that? S'il vous plaît, mon amie. I'm afraid I can't handle Alfred’s whining for the next hour, and I have to help Feliciano with the lunch crowd.” Francis shooed the other out from behind the counter before he could respond, and returned to the forming line. 

    

Ivan stood with a mop and towels in hand for a moment, blinking. His attention was caught by Alfred’s noises of distress, and he made his way over quickly with long strides despite the weight of his coat. Alfred grumbled under his breath, roughly scraping napkins against his jacket. Arthur sat back reading his newspaper once again with a victorious smirk on his face. Ivan paused in his mission to glare in his direction for a moment before setting the mop aside. He brought the towel to Alfred silently, patting the fluffy cloth against his chest where the tea had mostly soaked through. 

    

Alfred stilled, his breath catching in confusion at the Russian’s actions. When Ivan moved lower, Alfred’s hands shot up to grab at his wrists. 

    

“Woah, woah, woah, I got the rest dude.” Alfred said quickly, snatching the towel from the other. Ivan furrowed his brows in confusion, and shook his head at the American’s oddities. He retrieved the mop and finished cleaning the mess of tea from the floor. 

    

“Aw, jeez Artie, everything's still all wet.” Alfred pouted, peeling his shirt from his body for emphasis. Arthur spared him a glance from above his newspaper with an air of indifference. 

    

“Serves you right for being an utter pillock.” He snapped the paper taunt, and ignored him once more. 

    

“Whatever dude, I know how to live a little.” Alfred chuckled despite the mess, plopping himself down in a chair at the table. “Do you think Franky has a hair dryer around here?”

    

“Why would I know what that wine-loving tool has?” Arthur snapped, looking up. 

    

“Jeez, don't get your knickers in a twist, Artie” Alfred stuck his tongue out with a grin.

    

“Stop calling me that you twit!”

    

Alfred laughed noisily, and started pulling his jacket off. Resting the soaked material on the table, he grabbed at the hem of his shirt and tugged it off. Ivan, who had just finished mopping the tea, seemed taken aback by the action. Arthur just snorted. 

    

“Why are you removing of your shirt? Will you not be cold?” Ivan gaped at the American, who simply shrugged nonchalantly. 

    

“I'm not leaving this place with wet clothes, I'll freeze my balls off out there dude. It's already cold enough in here.” Alfred shivered, rubbing his arms at the prickling of his own skin. With a huff, he spread the shirt and jacket over the table in hopes of drying. Ivan blinked, setting the mop aside once more. He unclasped the hooks of his own heavy coat, slipping out of it while keeping special care not to disturb his scarf. He placed it gently over the American’s shoulders, who immediately accepted the encasement of warmth with a heaving sigh.

    

“Dude this is amazing, it's like the warmest thing ever!” Alfred sighed dramatically, huddling into the thick lining and prior heat of the Russian. The large coat hung from his frame loosely, almost comically. 

    

“Is no problem at all, Alfred. The weather in Russia is much more colder than this.” Ivan touched his scarf lightly, pausing. “Please be sure to do the returning of it, da?”

    

Alfred nodded enthusiastically, buttoning the coat and grabbing at his second drink. “Sure can do, bro.”

    

Ivan nodded quietly, feeling more than a little naked without the heaviness of his overcoat. He collected the mop and towels in silence, before Alfred spoke up again from his cocoon of warmth. 

    

“Oh, big guy, can you tell Franky to get Mr. Prissypants over here some new tea?” He snickered when Arthur’s scowl deepened. Ivan nodded with a small smile. 

    

“Da, of course.” He turned, moving behind the counter where Francis and Feliciano were taking and filling orders with meticulous ease. With a swipe of his apron, Francis excused himself from his station and smiled at Ivan as he approached. 

    

Taking the mop and towels from Ivan, Francis gave him a sly look and a wink before elegantly avoiding Feliciano to the back. Ivan stood still until the Frenchman’s return.

    

“Bonjour, Ivan. Might I say you look très beau without that big stuffy coat, oui?” Francis patted a lingering hand atop Ivan’s broad chest, who ignored the action completely. 

    

“Alfred is asking for new tea, dа?” Ivan stared down at the Frenchman with piercing violet eyes. Francis laughed, patting Ivan once more. 

    

“Yes, yes. You were once such an adorable little boy.” He flipped his ponytail off his shoulder, grinning. “Now, earl grey then for our bossypants, oui?” 

    

Francis picked another styrofoam cup and marker, opening the cap with his teeth. Ivan leaned over to see what he was writing. On the cup, Francis drew a quick and crude rendition of Arthur with ridiculously proportioned eyebrows. Snapping the cap onto the marker, Francis presented the cup to Ivan with a smile. 

    

“You have to write the customer's name on the cups, oui? I like to mess with Arthur on his.” Francis chuckled, making his way to the teas. Ivan eyed the stack of cups with pursed lips, before trailing back behind the Frenchman.

    

“An earl gray with deux sugar cubes, parfait.” Francis kissed the side of the cup dramatically, before cupping his hand around his mouth. “Arthur darling!” He called out in a singsong tone, setting the tea on a corner of the counter with a flourish. Arthur looked up with a sharp glare. “It will get cold if you don't come here, mon chou.” Francis wiggled his eyebrows, leaning against the counter for affect. 

    

Ivan watched how the men interacted as Arthur stood and marched over briskly, the bitterness in his expression never wavering. He snatched the tea from the counter, rolling his eyes at the design on the side of the cup. Francis winked, eliciting a harrumph from the Englishman, who straightened his shoulders and sat back down with Alfred. Francis kept his gaze on the pair for a moment, before speaking up. 

    

“He can't resist me.” He chuckled, eyeing the brit fondly. Ivan kept his eyes on Alfred instead. He watched as he sipped at his coffee and buried himself deeper into the heavy coat. A brief warmth of possessiveness welled in the pit of his stomach at the image of the other being cocooned in his coat, and he briefly pondered the thought of it smelling like the American once it was returned. Alfred subconsciously pushed his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose, meanwhile playing with his phone. Francis nudged Ivan from his stupor with a smirk. 

    

“Back to work, mon amie. For now I need you to run the cash register, I'll make the orders and teach you the machines later.” He patted the Russian’s arm lightly, before moving back to the register to show him how to properly take orders. Ivan shadowed him quite literally, looming and examining the process like a ghost. He found his thoughts trailing back to that of the energetic blond wearing his coat, but he kept dutifully trained on his task.

    

Ivan replaced Francis in taking orders after the first, mindlessly tending the change to the customer in front of him with a pleasant smile. Or, a smile until Francis had told him that perhaps a neutral look was a better choice, since his natural smile held apparent disturbing qualities. 

    

The orders became quick and repetitive, they passed the time. While Ivan scrawled the drinks and pastries onto the slips for Feliciano and Francis, his eyes trailed back to the two men at the table closest to the counter. The pair never left, they lingered and ordered lunch after the first initial crowd.

    

Francis stood from where he had been cleaning a coffee grinder, and stretched noisily. Feliciano had since collapsed onto the counter, more so laying across it. A long sigh escaped the Italian’s lips as he stretched. 

    

“It's been so busy today.” He whined out, gesturing weakly towards the dining area of the café, where few lone writers and students remained. Francis nodded in agreement.

    

“Oui, c'était occupé. Ah, but now we have new hands to help!” He grinned, glancing back at Ivan who seemed unphased by the workload. 

    

Feliciano nodded. “But he still can't make all the coffee.”

    

Francis waved a hand elegantly. “He will learn très rapide, do not worry mon amie.”

    

Ivan listened to the rest of their conversation halfheartedly as his eyes trailed back to the table with Alfred and Arthur. He wondered briefly if they normally spent such a long time in the café, though Francis had said that they were regulars. Alfred seemed set on doodling in a notepad next to an open textbook, and Arthur’s newspaper had been replaced with some hardcover novel. The Englishman occasionally peeked over the top of the book at Alfred, watching him work before going back to his novel. Ivan turned his attention back to his coworkers who were still engrossed in conversation. Francis held a rag and a spray bottle, wiping down the press. 

    

“I can't believe that British scum jerkwad actually threw the tea. I do not think our Alfred will let him off the hook so easy this time, oui?” Francis said with a wink.

    

“Oh don't say that, Francis! Matthew will hold him back if he gets too upset over it, I'm sure Arthur will buy him gelato to make up. He probably feels terribile!” Feliciano whispered loudly over his shoulder at the Frenchman. Ivan’s ears perked at the conversation topic, finding great interest in the two men. His curiosity got the better of him. 

    

“Do they live together?” He interjected, startling the Italian slightly with the more than curious tone to his quiet voice. Francis glanced over at him quizzically, furrowing his brows. 

    

“But of course, mon amie.” He answered simply. 

    

“Sì, sì, he moved in late May.” Feliciano added, swinging his legs back and forth. Ivan looked between the two, blinking. An unknown feeling settled itself in the pit of his stomach as he turned back to Alfred and Arthur, catching a glimpse of the Englishman behind his book. His expression was that of worry as he trailed his eyes between the still damp clothes and Alfred. The feeling in Ivan grew, burning and aching as he studied Arthur’s expression, the worrying of his lip. He broke away, looking back towards Feliciano and Francis.

    

“Hon hon hon, he is adorable when he's worried, non?” Francis said with a chuckle, watching along with Ivan. The Russian pursed his lips. 

    

“Does it not bother you?” He asked. Francis raised an eyebrow, pausing in his work. 

    

“Does what bother me, mon amie?”

    

Ivan gestured towards Arthur with a tilt of his head. Francis’ eyes widened before a look of understanding passed over his features. He chuckled. 

    

“Oh, of course not! Arthur is just such fun to tease, that is all.” Francis said with a wave of his rag and a grin. Ivan nodded reluctantly, not quite understanding the lack of affliction in the Frenchman. Francis let out a contented sigh, handing the rag and bottle to Ivan. “Could you clean the tables? Merci, mon amie, I am sleepy from such a busy shift.” 

    

Ivan nodded as Francis quickly disappeared into the back room. Feliciano hopped off the counter and gave Ivan a bright smile, before opening the cash register to balance. 

    

Ivan made his way out from behind the counter. He sprayed each table not in use and wiped it clean with a few languid swipes of the rag. He didn't care much to spend too long at the tables farther away from Alfred and Arthur. He took careful time to linger around them and observe the duo. His swipes slowed, and stopped completely as he peered around Alfred’s shoulder to see what he had been doodling. Alfred, quite unartistically, was engrossed in a drawing of a superhero of some sort in his notebook. Ivan smiled warmly at the American, recalling his introduction as a hero.

    

Alfred dropped his pen, and took his cellphone from off the table. He checked it briefly before putting it back down. He resumed doodling for a few more moments before dropping the pen again picking up the phone once more. With a start and a whispered curse, he collected his textbooks and materials, quickly shoving them into a bag that he’d hidden beneath the table. Arthur looked up from his book sourly, furrowing his thick brows. 

    

“What the hell is your problem this time, Alfred?” Arthur asked, handing his book over to the other, who unceremoniously shoved it into the bag.

    

“Mattie’s got a game soon, I don't even have a shirt on, bro!” Alfred said, dismayed. Arthur nodded, helping to pack more carefully. Alfred slung the bag over his shoulder, ushering the Englishman out the door quickly. Ivan watched, confused, before realizing that the American was still wearing his coat. He drew closer, reaching his hand out slightly. 

    

“Ah, Amerikanskaya, what about-”

    

“Sorry my dude, no can do, I gotta go!” Alfred flashed a smile before shoving Arthur out the door, who protested loudly. The chime rang, signifying their exit.

    

“My coat?” Ivan finished, puzzled. He eyed the door for a moment, before resolving to ask Francis what had gotten Alfred in such a rush. He finished wiping off the tables quickly, making his way back behind the counter. Feliciano lingered at the display case, idly chatting with Francis who had returned from the back room. 

    

“All done are we? Just leave those by the door, I'll deal with them later.” Francis said with a wave of his hand. Ivan nodded, doing as instructed. He stood for a moment, still. 

    

“I wonder why they were in such a rush?” He spoke aloud, voice muffled by his scarf. 

    

“Who?” Francis turned, fixing his ponytail. 

    

“Those men, Alfred and Arthur.” He said. Francis raised a brow as he looked over to find their table empty.

    

“That is odd, they usually stay until closing on Tuesdays.” He said as he scratched at his chin absently. Ivan nodded, taking note of that. 

    

Francis moved over to a calendar that hung on a far wall, which displayed the wrong month. He flipped through it proper, scanning the dates quickly. 

    

“Oh! Matthieu has a hockey game today!” Francis spoke excitedly as he turned with a glint in his eye. Ivan tilted his head, and Feliciano brightened at the news. Francis looked around the cafe to see only a few straggler students. He made his way over to their tables with a warm smile and charming tone, informing them that he would be closing shop early. 

    

Not a half an hour later Le Café D’amour was devoid of customers, and the closed sign hung on the door. Feliciano locked up the register while Ivan carried various items into the back room as instructed. Francis brewed last minute lattes with a light hum, and placed them on a table close to the counter. 

    

“Feliciano, you can go home now. I'll finish up with Ivan, oui?” Francis pressed a drink into the Italian’s hand, who smiled gratefully. 

    

“Ciao, ciao then!” He cheered, collecting his things. Francis sat down at the table and beckoned Ivan over with a motion of his hand. He slid the coffee over at the Russian’s approach. 

    

“It has been a long time, Ivan.” Francis sighed after a long sip of coffee. Ivan nodded, sitting. 

    

“Da, it has.” He stated simply, feeling vulnerable without his coat. 

    

“You've been here for a month, non? How was your father?” Francis spoke wistfully. 

    

“Tired.” Ivan took a sip of coffee.

    

“And Natalia? She was so small the last time I saw her.” 

    

“She is changed. She is no longer the sweet girl she once was.” Ivan said with a frown, staring at his coffee. Francis nodded.

    

“But of course! She is like a flower blooming into womanhood, she will no doubt have changed!” Francis chuckled, patting Ivan’s hand. Ivan looked up skeptically. “What about you, mon amie? Do you like it here?”

    

Ivan thought back to his month thus far, reunited with his sister and struggling to thrive in a new and strange country. He thought about his first day of work here, of the sunny blond man, Alfred, with bright smiles and eccentric speech. The way he introduced himself as a hero, and the way his blue eyes shimmered when he did it. He thought about him burying himself into Ivan’s coat.

    

“I believe I could learn to.” Ivan said with a smile. Francis grinned. 

    

“I have a hockey game to attend to. Ah, Ivan, would you like to accompany me?” Francis asked, standing. Ivan regarded him for a moment, imagining how Alfred was going to be there. His violet eyes softened. 

    

“Da, I would like that very much.” 

    

-

    

Translations:

    

French:  
Le Café D’amour: The Love Café  
C’est magnifique: It's magnificent  
Non: No  
Mon amie: My friend  
Oui: Yes  
Mon Chérie: My dear  
Généreuse: Generous  
Une: One  
Deux: Two  
Ce n'est pas bon du tout: This is not good at all  
S'il vous plaît: Please  
Bonjour: Hello  
Très beau: Very Handsome  
Parfait: Perfect  
Mon chou: Sweetheart  
C'était occupé: It was busy  
Très rapide: Very quickly  
Merci: Thank you

    

Russian:  
Da: Yes  
Zdravstvuyte: Hello  
Privet: Hi  
Amerikanskaya: American

    

Italian:  
Ciao: Hello  
Terribile: Terrible  
Sì: Yes  
Ciao, ciao: Bye-bye

    


End file.
